Unchanging
by cmartlover
Summary: "In some ways, Amy and Rory's relationship had grown the most through their trying, yet unforgettable adventures with the Doctor. They had survived traumatic ordeals that no one should have to suffer—and yet, in the end, they only drew closer to one another, in spite of it all. Or so it seemed." Spoilers for Series 7.


**Author's Note: After all the recent spoilers and anticipation for the ****_Asylum of the Daleks_****(Series 7 opener, which premiers on September 1st), I really felt compelled to write this. Amy and Rory's marriage has definitely suffered-based on what I've read from multiple sources. This fic examines how something that terrible could possibly have happened to two people so loyal to one another-who have survived through so much. I hope this sheds light on some things. Remember that reviews are greatly appreciated.**

* * *

Trudging out of the TARDIS blue door in a huff, the sandy haired man tried his best to hold himself together.

His reddened fists balled up against his thighs, an outward sign that barely scratched the surface of the sea of emotions that were boiling from deep within.

A painfully all-too-familiar Scottish accent resounded from above, growing less audible the further he moved away from the house.

"I hate this!" the red head cried, her voice breaking.

_And you think I don't? _He wanted to say, but instead found himself muttering something low and indistinguishable.

Clutching the divorce papers tightly in his right hand, Rory refused to turn around and continued to approach the bus station.

His heart pounded in his chest unmercifully, taunting him as it had continuously for the past several months.

Despite the fact that he could still hear Amy's muffled crying, he couldn't bring himself to go back. He refused to meet her eyes—those lovely pools of green that he had always been oddly susceptible to. Even now.

Part of him wanted desperately to comfort her, but sensibility took over and he reminded himself that doing something of that sort would only make everything more difficult.

_I have to do this. I have to get this finalized._ Rory repeated in his mind, over and over again, trying to regain the motivation for what he knew had to be done.

But even as he mentally processed these thoughts, he wondered if he could really do it. Finalize the divorce once and for all.

It was sort of ironic; he'd never once in a million years imagined that a day such as this would come. After all he had been through—all _they_ had been through; Rory had thought their marriage would continue to remain strong even against the most horrendous flames, just as it had on numerous occasions.

And in some respects, he supposed it _had_ —well, up to a point, that is.

Even back as far as last Christmas, their life together had seemed relatively stable—after all, they'd managed to survive two years without a single visit from the Doctor. Though Rory could recall some days during that time when simply glancing at Amy's saddened expression would practically sever his heart. She had missed her bow-tie wearing, alien best friend a lot more than she was willing to let on. And if he was being perfectly honest, he had felt the same way.

All those times his wife had bottled up those unspoken feelings of sadness, keeping them to herself, rather than letting them out in healthy fashion—had slowly gnawed at the figurative cords that held their marriage together. Of course, it wasn't entirely Amy's fault by any stretch of imagination—Rory had concealed his own brokenness, too.

But the more he pondered it, the more he got the feeling that therein was the true problem. Everything always came back to the Doctor.

Sometimes Rory Williams couldn't help but wonder how his life might have been different if Amy Pond had never met this strange raggedy man when she was seven years old. Would they have stayed stronger? Would they have raised children of their own properly and grown old together? Would they have escaped the consequences of a crumbling marriage?

As a youth, Rory had often dreamed of such things—musing about how wonderful it would be to have the smashing Amelia Pond as his wife. Now, years later, he realized just how useless it was to rely on the what-ifs, ignoring the blatant reality of the situation.

Because regardless of whether or not traveling in the TARDIS was the path he had envisioned for himself, it had happened, and he couldn't change it, so why pretend?

In some ways, Amy and Rory's relationship had grown the most through their trying, yet unforgettable adventures with the Doctor. They had survived traumatic ordeals that no one should have to suffer—and yet, in the end, they only drew closer to one another, in spite of it all. Or so it seemed.

It was easy to pretend, for a while, anyway, especially on a ship that traveled through time and space, that the timey-wimeyness of their lives had little effect on them. The Doctor always seemed to point out the fact that life was completely ridiculous and complicated—apparently that was just how things worked. But were his excuses enough to assuage the hidden pain that had crept into the Pond's lives over a course of a few years—unspoken, emotional torment that began corroding their marriage ever since that notorious day—the battle of Demons Run.

The revelation of Amy's pregnancy had been frightening enough, but neither she nor Rory could have ever effectively prepared themselves for the horrors that quickly followed.

A hazy memory drifted through the man's troubled mind, and for a brief second he could see his daughter's innocent face shining through. His baby—_their_ child. But even that was fleeting. In truth, he could hardly remember that sweet, little baby Melody at all. He'd only gotten a chance to hold her once, and even then, it was actually her flesh avatar. Rory had never truly held his baby girl. Perhaps that was what had hurt him the most.

Losing that perfect, unscathed child had rocked both him and Amy to the very core, but the truth of her identity had come as quite an unexpected shock. The knowledge that this flirty, mysterious, gun-slinging archaeologist was in fact his grown up daughter had been too much to digest at the time. But from there, the situation had become more complicated. Before he'd fully accepted the truth about River Song, Rory had been forced to discover that his and Amy's best friend was an earlier incarnation of his precious Melody. All hope of raising her and creating a proper family had been dashed to bits.

And yet somehow the Last Centurion and the Girl Who Waited had coped with it, moving on and acting as if this loss weighed very little upon their hearts.

For a while, he supposed he had been rather numb to it. They both had. But whenever he saw that beautiful curly haired woman—their daughter—River Song—Rory had to relive those horrible experiences all over again. His heart was often burdened by guilt—he hadn't been the proper father she deserved. He wasn't strong enough to protect his baby Melody.

And despite River's terrible, depraved childhood, she had become such an incredibly strong woman. That was partially the Doctor's doing, no doubt.

It wasn't that he didn't love River—Rory loved his daughter wholeheartedly, even if she was significantly older than him, and so did Amy. But the pain and confusion that came out of that entire situation had ravaged their hearts so much, to the point that when they finally gathered the courage to speak their concerns aloud, it was already too late.

He'd foolishly thought that perhaps if they could just start over—live their life together and have children in a much more ordinary, human way—but, no. They had tried, several times, and yet every time came the same, heartbreaking result—Amy was not pregnant. Rory didn't blame her for that, of course, but the more he pondered it, the more it became clear that something else had happened to Amy at Demons Run.

Maybe if the Doctor had come earlier, rather than leaving them in the dark for two years, Amy and Rory might have faced these issues sooner. After all, it was following his Christmas visit that the true state of their marriage had ultimately been unveiled.

He doubted it would have been as difficult if they had talked to someone about the whole Melody crisis. If they couldn't confide in one another, another person would have been better than nothing. Sometimes he had wished he had spoken with the Doctor, the only other person besides Amy and River who knew exactly what had happened, and yet the man in the bow tie was so elusive and closed off—Rory rarely ever had a serious conversation with him. It didn't help that they'd hardly seen him in the past few years. Who else was there to talk to, then? His family? Surely not, Rory's father was still convinced that he and Amy had been traveling in Thailand or something. Amy's parents were just as oblivious.

With no one else to speak with, especially given the Doctor's absence and River's sporadic visits—Amy and Rory had naturally buried it all deep inside—until they could no longer keep quiet without going mad themselves.

Pressing his hand to his forehead wearily, the sandy haired man recalled the yelling and the tears that had been shed on that day when everything had seemingly come out in the open. That had only been the beginning. Rory remembered some of Amy's very hurtful words that had bruised him more than she would ever realize. And in his anger and bitterness, with no one else to target, he had said some equally nasty things to her as well.

From there on out, the arguments increased, and he had sensed the distance gradually building between them.

He could still picture their last kiss—lips touching lips with such an unhealthy, abnormal hesitancy—it just hadn't felt the same anymore. Rory couldn't even touch his own wife without feeling the pain erupt from deep within. Their marital issues were _that_ severe.

His head throbbed just thinking about it—though it reminded him of why he was doing this.

It had gotten completely out of hand—the insults, the abuse, the distance, the pain—he couldn't take it anymore. That wasn't any way to live. Something had to change, even if it ended up being the hardest decision Rory ever made in his entire life.

Divorce—it was supposed to be liberating, wasn't it? They wouldn't be constrained to one another anymore. Rory could forget the agony that overwhelmed his heart whenever he so much as looked at Amy Pond.

Only it wasn't that easy. Nor was it true—not in the slightest.

Whether they were legally bound or not—their complicated lives would forever be entangled together. Because no matter what happened between him and Amy, River Song was still their daughter. And she was still married to the Doctor—their best friend—their son-in-law.

So many people moved on after getting a divorce—they remarried, had kids, and dealt with the problems they had left behind. But Rory Williams could never do that.

Because the simple truth, though difficult to bring to light was resonating deep in the bottom of his heart:

Rory Williams still loved Amy Pond.

And despite his hopes, wishful thinking, or even something as terrible as divorce, that was _never_ going to change.

* * *

**Note: Hopefully that makes sense to you. And don't worry, from what I've seen, throughout the first half of Series 7, the Doctor is going to help reconcile their marriage. Thanks for reading:) If you'd like to read any of my other fics, feel free to check them out on my profile page. Please take this time to leave a review.**

**Have an amazing day!**


End file.
